Love and Revenge
by MQ1
Summary: Dumbledore's murderer gets his comeuppance and falls in love, all in a matter of moments. ADMM and onesided SSMM


**_Love and Revenge_**

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything of JKR's_

* * *

"You," she said hoarsely, her voice a faint echo over the grounds.

"Me," he answered, watching the wand she held in her hand apprehensively.

"You killed them," she whispered, "Harry, Ron, Dumbledore, you killed them all."

"Yes."

She trembled violently and he took the opportunity to inch his fingers toward his fallen wand.

"Don't," she commanded.

There was something in her voice that made him stop, and he raised his face to look at his former pupil. Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair a wild tangle and she radiated grief. Had he done that to her? He knew that he had and the realisation hurt him more than he would let anyone, especially her know.

He sat heavily on the grass and looked up at her from his kneeling position. She had cornered him here after she had fired the killing curse at Lucius Malfoy. It was strange. He'd never have thought that Hermione Granger would become a murderer. Then again he never thought he would murder the only man he could only say he loved like a father.

It was one of life's ironies.

"Hermione, I . . ."

"Don't!" she said louder this time, "I didn't come here to hear your excuses. I came here to . . . to . . ."

"Kill me?"

"Exactly!"

She shook violently and again his fingers inched toward his wand. She saw his movement and her trembling ceased to be overcome by anger.

"I said, don't!"

With those words she moved forward two paces and planted a boot on his outstretched fingers. He gave a gasp of pain as he felt his fingers break underneath her weight and she turned her heel sharply making the agony increased tenfold.

"Hermione!"

She looked down at him. There were no tears in her eyes. It seemed that her grief was too strong for such trivialities.

"Why?"

If only he could answer that himself. He hadn't done it for power; he'd never cared for it. He hadn't done it for money; he had more than enough. If he searched his soul he could not come up with any reason for his actions.

"I don't know."

She gave a snort and brushed away a lank lock of hair away from his face.

"You did all that for a reason you don't know and still lost," she said her voice mocking, "And to think I thought you were intelligent."

She pressed her wand against his temple and let it rest there cocking her head to one side as if peering at a mildly interesting animal at a zoo. Which he reminded himself, he probably was. An animal that is.

"Hermione," he pleaded, "You don't want to do this."

She smiled the manic smile of a battle-hardened woman and let out a shrill bark of laughter.

"But, I do," she whispered menacingly, "I do."

She stepped back from him and pointed her wand. Her gaze was unflinching and her grip strong.

"Avada kedav . . ."

A ball of white light collided with her and she turned around sharply.

"Hermione, no."

It was a voice he loathed and despised, and he felt himself wanting Hermione to kill him rather than having to thank _her._

"He killed him, Minerva!" Hermione screamed, "I have to!"

The raven-haired witch stood alongside her younger charge and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Two wrongs don't make a right, Hermione."

The younger woman broke down completely and sobbed relentlessly into the older woman's robes.

"I'll deal with him, Hermione," she whispered into the girl's wild hair, "Go and find the others."

Perhaps it was due to the other woman's natural leadership or forced respect but Hermione nodded and half-walked, half-ran down the small hill they were atop of.

"Severus," Minerva said, her voice as harsh as he had remembered.

"Minerva," he spat not bothering to disguise the contempt he held for her. Well maybe not contempt, he did have a grudging respect for the woman.

"You said you loved him."

"I did."

Minerva gave a harsh bark of laughter, "So you killed him. Need I inform you of the paradox of that statement?"

"Didn't anyone tell you sarcasm was the lowest form of wit?" he replied snidely.

He was taken aback when he found himself jerked upright. He stared into Minerva McGonagall's deep pools of green and saw himself reflected there. A thin man with greasy hair stared back at him, his eyes full of resignation.

"You're going to kill me," he said flatly.

She nodded as she let go of the front of his robes and let him fall to the ground.

"You didn't know that the day you killed Albus Dumbledore you killed me as well did you?"

He looked at her blankly.

"Though if you had you probably would have killed him sooner. The strongest witch and wizard dealt with in one foul blow? It's poetic almost."

"Minerva, I'm sor . . ."

She silenced him with a slap across the cheek.

"Don't lie to me."

He fell silent again as he contemplated the woman before him. Unlike Hermione she retained a dignity around her that was both intoxicating and disconcerting. He was a fool to make an enemy of her.

She looked at him for a moment before she raised her wand to mutter the fatal words. He took that time to memorise every aspect of her. The hard line of her mouth, the robes that clung to every curve, the one strand of loose hair that had fallen from the bun but most of all he stared into her eyes which despite belying a great loss still held a resonating power.

"Avada kedavra."

He didn't try to move out of the way and merely watched the ball of green light speed toward him. He looked again at Minerva and saw not the Professor McGonagall he grudgingly respected but Minerva McGonagall the woman he had fallen in love with in the few seconds before he died.

She was afterall intoxicating.


End file.
